Human Temptation
by Envy Etiquette
Summary: Prentiss and Reid walk a fine line after he loses the woman he loved. He doesn't know how to stop blaming himself for circumstances Prentiss considers out of his control. She hopes an evening out will distract him from his grief, but things just seem to get more complicated. Oneshot with a bit of Reid/Maeve and Reid/Prentiss if you squint.


Just a little oneshot inspired by the insanity that was Zugzwang. This is what my mind churned out for what followed before I saw the next episode. Also, suspend your belief in Emily's departure because I believe he would need her now and Blake is simply not the new Emily. (Oh, and fairly obvious, but contains spoilers for 08x12.)

* * *

"I cannot make the universe obey me. I cannot make other people conform to my own whims and fancies. I cannot make even my own body obey me." Reid sighed as he slipped the brief note into an envelope sans signature. Cryptic as it was, he knew his mother would understand enough. Despite her illness, she never seemed to lose her grasp on the lines of philosophers nor her ability to decipher them. Today he couldn't write her anything more personal or elaborate. Maybe tomorrow's letter will be better he told himself, but he had said the same thing each day since Maeve died. Each day he had been wrong.

He dropped the letter off at the third closest post office and stopped for coffee ten minutes out of his way before heading to Quantico. Nothing seemed to adequately prepare him for returning to the BAU, to quell his anxiety. None of his typical routine felt right; no distraction was engaging enough, no task was normal enough, not after...

He sighed again as he flexed his fingers against the steering wheel. It had been a week. Well, five days, ten hours and some odd minutes he couldn't focus enough to compute. Hotch had offered him as much paid time off as he needed in spite of Strauss' protests about budget cuts, but Reid found he already had too much free time. Having watched the woman he loved be murdered in front him and possessing an eidetic memory that he seemed to have lost the ability to control was emotionally exhausting at best. He could see her face, so clear as his disavowal of love slipped from his lips. He could rerun every tactical error he made, every mistake that had cost her her life. If he had been a better agent, he would've been able to properly disarm the unsub. If he were a more convincing actor, one terrible kiss could've let the love of his life leave the room alive. After those images passed through his mind, he'd inevitably conclude them with the memory of her lifeless body, eyes closed with her face marred by the bullet that had passed through it. Then the guilt would hit him with renewed vigour.

Five days had been more than enough time to relive that.

So while excitement was certainly the last word to describe his feelings toward returning to work, he knew he felt ready. At least, as ready as he expected to be in the foreseeable future. As morbid as it felt to admit it, focusing on another victim's body would be a welcome reprieve and perhaps his determination to avoid any personal thoughts would lead to saving someone else's life.

When he arrived at the military base he turned on his work phone and was met with more missed calls and unreturned messages than he cared to count. He wasn't surprised, quite the contrary in fact, but it made him all the less comfortable with encountering his co-workers. He had been socially AWOL, which had been one thing, but knew his absence at Maeve's funeral wouldn't have been well received. He had visited where she had been laid to rest, paid his respects, and been overwhelmed by his bereavement, but he had done these things privately long after the funeral had concluded. He needn't see the accusation in her parents' eyes mirroring his own.

Somehow he made it into the building, passed another security checkpoint, reached the elevator, and made it to the unit without a total meltdown. Garcia was the first to spot him on his way to the bullpen. Rushing out of her office, she quickly hugged him which he was unable to return.

"Aww, honey, I'm so, so sorry," She said, her expression reflecting her compassion.

"Thanks, Garcia." His response sounded hollow even to his own ears.

Similar pleasantries were shared with Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and JJ. He knew they all meant well, but just as he had felt no desire to answer their phone calls, he felt a comparable feeling in response to their office condolences. When he made it to his desk after pouring his second cup of sugar with a splash of coffee and dodging small talk with Anderson, Prentiss had just arrived. She eyed him over the divider between their desks and offered a melancholy smile, but said nothing. He was eternally grateful.

He went through the motions, seeming to operate in a sort of purgatory between life in the BAU and grieving Maeve. Everyone sat at the conference room table reviewing recent cases submitted to their unit, each one being dismissed or postponed for some reason or another. Reid sat with his manila folders idly twirling a pen while the rest of his team perused their tablets.

"Monroe thinks they're dealing with a potential serial kidnapper," Garcia had voiced lightly, though Reid offered no reaction.

"Look at the victimology, baby girl," Morgan replied. "These are two different families in custodial battles. In all likelihood, at least one of the two kids is with a family member caught in the middle. Parish police can handle this one."

"Serial arsonist in Pittsburgh," Emily stated, though it was clear who she was staring at to gauge his focus on the cases. "What do you think, Reid?"

"It's textbook," He retorted with eyes narrowed, mentally retracting his earlier gratitude. "Send them the description of the kind of unsub they're looking for and they'll be fine."

"Laguna Niguel believe they have a sadistic rapist on their hands," JJ offered, attempting to break the tension before Prentiss could say anything else.

"Is that the file from Lieutenant Valdes?" Rossi had asked.

"Yeah, do you know him?"

"Not really, he was at one of my book signings a few years back. Now every few months he claims their department has a different sadist in their midst. He really seems to like that word."

"I could do with the sun and ladies of Orange County, let's humour him, Rossi," Morgan had debated. He was vetoed.

Most of the morning went the same way as the team read through case reports and examined photos, further considering the details of some, but few seeming to necessitate FBI involvement. Reid was nearly mute, speaking only when addressed directly. He felt eyes on him from time to time, but caught no one as frequently as Prentiss. She didn't disguise it. She kept her gaze on him after he noticed her then eventually dropped her eyes back to her work.

"All right, let's break for lunch," Hotch said some time after noon. "It's Friday so we can all finish some paperwork afterwards, anything you may have fallen behind on or forgotten to file, and we'll call it a day after that."

The agents quickly dispersed leaving only Prentiss and Reid. He was waiting for her to leave first while shoving documents into his messenger bag when her voice caught his attention.

"Reid?" He looked up at her shuffling papers idly, clearly trying to disguise her nervousness. "Let's grab a bite, get you out of your head for awhile."

"Emily, that's really not necessary."

"Reid, I was only being polite, I wasn't really asking. You're going, end of story."

Reid lacked both the energy and inclination to put up a fight. The two made their way to the parking garage in a comfortable silence. He didn't feel good, but her company seemed to assuage his flashbacks. She had drove although Reid barely recalled entering or exiting her BMW and found himself surprised when it was his turn to order at the café.

"I'll just have a coffee, thanks." After adding a suitable amount of sugar, he joined Prentiss at the table where she was settling into a turkey sandwich and an iced tea.

"That's not food, Reid."

"I, uh, can't really keep anything down right now, so that's about the best I can do." She raised an eyebrow as she set down her glass.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about. If there was, don't you think I would've called you or anyone else on the team back?"

"No, because not one since I've known you have you ever asked any of us for help or admitted you need it. Not before last week anyway."

"Do you really want to do this right now, Emily?"

"You agreed to lunch with me. Doesn't take a profiler to realize you need something even if it just means you don't want to be alone."

Reid sighed heavily, staring into his cup though he felt Emily's eyes on him.

"I don't know how to accept help, Em. I don't know how to do anything but handle things on my own. I was a child prodigy, I barely had peers let alone friends. When my dad left...my mom, she could barely take care of herself back then. I had to take care of both of us. At eighteen, I was the one who had to make the decision to send her to Bennington, no one else. After everything with Hankel and...well, I went to meetings for awhile, but...I just wasn't good at relating things to others. But now? This? What am I supposed to do here, Emily?"

He lifted weary eyes and the tragedy in them was more painful than any Emily had seen before. She felt compelled to reach for his hand, knowing it was nowhere near enough just like any of the platitudes she could have spoken, but he attempted a small smile all the same.

"Right in front of me. I told her I didn't love her then I watched her die right in front of me."

"It doesn't matter what you said, she knew. She knew you, Spence, and she loved you just for being you."

He shut his eyes, the hand not occupied by Emily's pressed to his bridge while his brow furrowed. She knew his migraines were back, and how couldn't they be when the only person who had made them stop was gone?

"We should head back soon. I'm sure the afternoon will go by quickly."

"I really wish it wouldn't," He replied.

Emily finished her lunch, though she found her own appetite had largely diminished. She watched Reid, who already had a tendency to look forlorn, stare out the restaurant's window looking more lost than she had ever seen him. The dreariness of his mood seemed to be reflected by the weather as rain pattered against the plate glass and Emily could see the man before her slipping back into despondency.

"Tonight we're going to drink," She declared as if there were no room for discussion or dissent.

"Excuse me?" Reid blinked, startled out of his reverie.

"You, Dr. Spencer Reid, and I, Ms. Emily Prentiss, will be going to a bar where we will drink. We will consume so much alcohol we'll barely be able to stand at which point in time you will return with me to my apartment and likely pass out on my couch at which time Sergio will likely make you his pillow."

Reid stared at Emily as though she had just admitted she were an unsub.

"Why on Earth would I want to do that?"

"Because if you go home, all you're going to do is think about her and find new ways to blame yourself. She wouldn't want you to suffer like that."

Reid didn't reply initially and Emily wasn't sure her suggestion had been as good as it had sounded in her head, but eventually he nodded.

"Okay." She smiled at his one word response.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

Reid spent his afternoon attempting a nap that he knew would never happen. Spencer Reid and sleep no longer seemed to be on speaking terms and his excessive caffeine intake did nothing to remedy that relationship. He hoped he would eventually grow so tired that he could forget everything, but back at his apartment with no work or conversation to occupy his mind, the memories returned in full force. Maeve in the chair, Maeve saying she understood, Maeve with a gun pointed at her, Maeve with a bullet in her head. Zugzwang. Any move he made put him at a distinct disadvantage. Diane had told him this from the beginning; there was no way out, no way to win just a choice of whether he'd play it through to the end. This did nothing to lessen his guilt.

After laying down on every surface a reasonable person could sleep on within his apartment, Reid eventually gave up and made himself another cup of coffee. He figured Emily would arrive at his door within the hour and hoped caffeine would make him less miserable company. He'd just finished his mug when a few knocks signalled her arrival, but he wasn't prepared for what he saw. It certainly wasn't the first time he was seeing Prentiss off the clock, but he was perplexed by the difference a touch more makeup and a change of clothes provided.

"Use your words, Reid," She joked as she walked into his apartment. She aimed to ease the tension with her words, but also found herself breathing a sigh of relief upon seeing that Reid hadn't turned his home into a warzone.

"Sorry, Emily, it's just I'm not used to seeing you like...this."

"Despite rumours, I assure you I am a woman."

"No, I know, it's just...I'm sticking my foot in my mouth, aren't I?"

"It's a pleasant change," She smiled easily and her energy seemed to mitigate the oppressing mood of his apartment. With her here, watching her do simple things like remove her jacket and gaze around his home, he felt more normal. He was no longer sure what had made him so reluctant to talk to everyone, so quick to isolate. Prentiss watched the small changes in his expression as he thought about whatever it was that puzzled him in that moment. She walked towards one of his bookcases, contemplating the titles. Clearly she had found herself in the literary fiction section of the Library of Reid. "Have you read all of these?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

"At least three times each, although most of them, a lot more. Those are for light reading."

"You consider War and Peace light?" He attempted what she assumed was a laugh, but sounded more like just breathing strongly through his nose.

"In my defence, that is the longest book on the shelf. That version is 587,287 words, but as you know, I can read 20,000 words a minute if the concept isn't excessively complex."

"Yeah, because War and Peace is child's play." She rolled her eyes and knew her performance was transparent, but nevertheless, Reid's attention seemed more focused in the present than the events of last week. "I'm surprised you don't have it in Russian somewhere." He remained quiet for a moment before turning away from her.

"Oh God, you do, don't you?" She asked incredulously.

"I'm going to get a sweater then I'll be ready for whatever it is that you have planned," He said, clearly evading the question.

"Oh, don't sound so dubious, Dr. Reid." Emily continued browsing as Reid went in his bedroom. She noticed an extensive collection of Ray Bradbury, what she assumed to be the complete works. She had just pulled out a book when the owner of said book returned with his cardigan half-buttoned. "You a fan?"

"Clearly," He replied, walking over to examine which book she had chosen. "The October Country. One of my favourites actually."

"I'm not surprised," She said as she returned the novel to its resting place. "The minute you get a religion you stop thinking. Believe in one thing too much and you have no room for new ideas."

Reid actually smiled at her recitation. A full, genuine Reid smile.

"I've always been a man of science."

"And a bit less partial to religion, I'm aware." She grabbed the jacket she had discarded upon her entrance, watching as he threw on his. "All right, Dr. Reid, shall we?"

Prentiss drove the two into Georgetown, a distance that would've taken them half the time to travel without the Friday night crowd. After hunting down a parking space, Emily having muttered something about an aversion to valet attendants and radio stations, the pair were finally walking into a tavern. Reid hadn't spent much time in bars and most of the ones he had found himself in had been in random towns around the country after a particularly difficult case closed so he wasn't surprised that the bar Prentiss had chosen was novel to him. They were early enough to get two stools together at the bar and Reid was thankful she'd managed to choose an establishment that while busy, maintained breathing room.

"Don't you still live in Fairfax?" He questioned as the bartender placed an Old Fashioned before him and a 7 and 7 in front of Prentiss.

"Yes, but it's not exactly known for its raging nightlife. JJ and I used to come here pretty frequently when I joined the team."

Reid nodded, remaining mute as he reached for his glass. Emily watched as he quickly drained the glass while she nursed her own; for all his poise, it was his most notable tell yet. He offered to buy the following round, but she insisted that he put all of his drinks on her tab.

"I invited you out, I pay. That's how it works."

"We're not on a date, Emily," He informed her before thanking the bartender for his second drinking, choosing to opt for a Manhattan. "I'm pretty sure there's no rules governing who pays when friends go out."

"Yeah, yeah, Reid. Just shut up and drink."

A few cocktails later a certain genius and a diplomat's daughter were speaking with few boundaries. Emily had been careful to steer the conversation away from anything Maeve-related. Despite her curiosity about the relationship, she had every intention of not upsetting the man sitting beside her. Unfortunately, a little too much whiskey led her astray.

"Why'd you come back so soon?" She asked as she stole the cherry from Reid's fourth Manhattan. It took him a moment to answer but eventually he replied, broaching the subject Prentiss had unsuccessfully hoped to avoid.

"Because even if I can't devote all my attention to work, it's something. It's some part of my brain not focused on...her." He sighed, taking a swig of his bourbon. "I can't keep sitting in my apartment replaying that night."

"There's no point doing that. You can't change the past."

"Don't patronize me, Emily, I know it's irrational." It was Emily's turn to sigh, hoping her next words would be better received.

"You know none of us could've taken that shot. We had better odds of hitting her than Diane."

"I know, I know. I remember protocol, but...we should've done something. I should've done something."

"You're not a hostage negotiator, Reid, but Hotch is and he knew within seconds of going in there that the best case scenario would be suicide by cop and that in all likelihood she would take Maeve with her."

Reid had been staring at his hands resting on the sides of his glass, but his eyes shot to Emily's at the mention of Maeve. Neither of them had referred to her by name and as Reid stared at her, Emily wondered if she had a crossed a line she really shouldn't have.

"If I could have faked it, she'd still be alive."

"We have no way of knowing that. You could've been dead by now."

They exhausted the subject, Reid voicing the multitude of ways he was to blame for Maeve's untimely death with Emily invalidating each one with a logical counterargument despite her whiskey buzz. Her words helped him. Regardless of how emotional he was and had been lately, he truly was a man of logic. Though he fully intended to take Emily's advice of drinking to excess, he could still see possibility of change. That maybe, just maybe, he would eventually be able to move on.

"What if this is really zugzwang?" He asked, facing the woman next to him head on. "I made my move and I'm just waiting for checkmate. Do I keep going or simply surrender?"

"Don't think like that, Reid. I know it's hard, Lord knows I've lost enough people, but this doesn't define you. Your life isn't just the sum of every bad thing that's happened to you and people around you. Thomas Merton felt that to consider persons and events and situations only in the light of their effect upon yourself is to live on the doorstep of hell. You've got to get out of your head, you can't just view her death as caused by something you did."

"You know Merton."

"Of course I do. Try not to sound so shocked, Dr. Reid, I went to college, too. Some people even think Yale is a pretty good university despite the fact it was your safety school." The slightest chuckle escaped Reid's lips at Emily's sarcasm.

"My apologies, Emily, I didn't mean to insult your alma mater. I guess there are other schools besides CalTech...actually, no. I retract that statement. There's only CalTech." Thinking over the past few minutes, Reid decided another apology was in order. "I'm sorry to be so...I'm just sorry, Emily. I know there are much better places to be than here with me."

"Perish the thought, Reid. What are friends for?"

The two agents sat through last call, finishing their drinks and conversation, waiting for the largest part of the crowd to disperse. Eventually they found themselves walking past the closed shops along Wisconsin Avenue with brisk air beating against their faces. Emily had drank considerably less than Reid, knowing she would have to drive, but wasn't opposed to getting some air before heading back to the car. Her hands were stuffed in her coat pocket, her eyes gazing at the brick sidewalk, though she occasionally felt Reid's shoulder bump against hers as they walked.

"You know, once I had hope for a future with you, Em. It had been a fleeting idea really, but remember when I asked you to see Solaris with me?" Emily was taken aback by his liquor-induced confession, but quickly found her voice.

"I was a bit preoccupied at the time, what with Irish murderers tracking me down and all, but I do." She smiled though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "You said we were the only ones who could enjoy it because it was in Russian."

"You thanked me and I asked you for what..." He trailed off, eyes staring straight ahead at nothing in particular.

"For just being you. My feelings on the subject haven't changed."

"Why would thinking about her make me think about back then?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do," Reid said, voice tinged with annoyance. "I know facts and figures and profiles and can recite the Bible to you verbatim while simultaneously working out a complex calculus problem, but you truly understand people. People outside of profiles."

"All I know, Spencer, is that you just lost someone very important to you. A week ago, you watched the woman you loved die. There's no standard reaction to that so I can't explain away any thoughts you've since had."

"Then what's bothering you?" Emily contemplated her response and resented Reid's ability to be both perceptive and intoxicated. She decided to hell with it.

"Okay. You said it was fleeting. Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"I understand how you process things. The only reason you ever have fleeting thoughts is if you've already worked out the puzzle. People don't just have 'fleeting ideas' about having a _future _with someone."

Reid stopped walking, turning to stare at the brunette beside him.

"Let it go, Em."

"No, you brought it up. You asked me why thinking about her made you think about me. Now you tell me."

Reid's hands gripped her shoulders, eyes closed and brow creased.

"Please," He implored her. "I can't...just let it go, Emily."

Unwilling to put any further stress on the man before her, Emily reached for the hands resting on her shoulders. Slowly, his eyes eased open, though the lines in his forehead remained. She offered a rueful smile as she said, "Let's head back to the car."

It was just after three when Agent Prentiss unlocked the door to her apartment. Her and Reid were quickly greeted by Sergio who seemed less than impressed with the man who had been responsible for keeping her out all hours of the night. After Emily grabbed some blankets and pillows, the two enjoyed a final glass of wine in her living room while watching old reruns of Star Trek play on.

As Reid eventually felt sleep begin to grab hold, his eyes drifted to Emily's sleeping form on the loveseat. For a moment, he wondered if it were possible to love more than one person, the thought he had fought so desperately to bury while they were in Georgetown. He knew what he felt for Maeve had been real, but the evening with Prentiss had reminded him of the many things he enjoyed about being in her company. He quickly dispatched those thoughts, reprimanding himself for considering anything that detracted from his feelings of Maeve. Still, as his eyelids slipped closed and his mind began to silence, he remembered one more quotation.

The biggest human temptation is to settle for too little.

* * *

AN: Hope you all enjoyed that. A couple of Thomas Merton quotes were sprinkled in there as his words were so quintessential to Maeve and Reid's relationship, but as I adore Prentiss I felt it necessary for her to quote him as well. I know it's a oneshot, but if you left a review anyway, that would be absolutely lovely.


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